


lithe

by fiveyaaas



Series: when autumn comes [22]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Choking, Established Relationship, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, Panic Attacks, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Rope Bondage, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, i’m tagging for the second part lol, pls read disclaimer at beginning and the tags!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27152479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveyaaas/pseuds/fiveyaaas
Summary: He cocks his head, watching her page through a book, a cup of tea still steaming on her table. Five almost wants to scold her for not noticing him standing there and watching her, but he’ll wait to do that once he’s done with her. Her ankles are crossed, propped up on the coffee table, and he decides to silently saunter forward to her, seeing if she actually doesn’t notice him. Infuriatingly, she doesn’t turn around, even when he’s right behind her.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: when autumn comes [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941919
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65
Collections: Harcest Fall Festival: Fiveya Kinktober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msouma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msouma/gifts).



> Okay, before you read this fic, I need to clarify what the roleplay is. Basically, Five and Vanya are roleplaying as assassin and victim, and I made sure to add kink negotiations and aftercare. If the concept makes you uncomfortable at all, please skip this fic! It will not affect your understanding of any of the other fics in this series!
> 
> I would like to thank lofticries, pomarome, and ellaphunt19 for looking through this fic for me, you guys are so appreciated!!! 
> 
> This fic is dedicated to msouma, my favorite sagittarian rat. I appreciate you, and I’m so glad that we’ve become friends because, as a gay sagittarius sun and aquarius venus, I desperately need friends that are on my level of chaos. I cannot wait for our sag bash on December 18th, and I hope that I make you cry with my fic for that day (which is like... THE writing goal for December.)

She’s panting when Five pulls away from her, the wildness of his eyes leaving as he lays down on his back, glancing over at her with a complicated expression across his features. 

It still takes her off guard, to see him like this. Supposedly, he hadn’t grown this tall during his first time at this age, and she knows it has to be disconcerting to even see himself in the mirror these days. She doesn’t imagine that he spent a lot of time in front of mirrors in the apocalypse, and, though he had actually been quite vain in that regard when he was much younger, he really cared to be vain then, either. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, surprising her. She’d been worried after he’d abruptly untied her earlier that night, and she’d comforted him until he’d looked up suddenly and started kissing her. There hadn’t been much talking when he blinked her to their bedroom though he’d been crying when he rutted into her. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Vanya asks now, carding her hand through his hair, moving close to him, trying to tuck herself against his chest. Sensing what she wants, he tugs her over until she’s sprawled out against his chest. 

“I know that you had wanted…” He trails off, clearing his throat quickly. “The position you were in, it was just similar to when I had an assignment. It was just upsetting to see, and I freaked out a bit.”

“No, you’re fine,” she assures. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He sighs, “It can be hard to… say things like that out loud. I feel like…”

After several minutes when he doesn’t speak, she speaks, having understood already what he’s not saying out loud. He’s worried that she’s going to look down at him, for being an assassin. Despite the fact that Vanya had caused the apocalypse, and he had long forgiven her, he’s convinced that she’s not forgiven him in return. 

“Five, you know I trust you completely, right?”

His face pinches up, not quite scowling but getting there. “I almost killed you, you know.”

She shrugs, “I almost killed the entire world. Actually, I did kill the entire world once, and you lived in the aftermath of that world.”

He shakes his head, “It’s not the same.”

“How?”

“Well, for one, you didn’t give any thought to it. I gave  _ much  _ thought to it, and I almost killed you.”

“Am I dead now?”

He scowls fully then, “It doesn’t matter. What I did was despicable.”

“What I did was much more despicable, and if it were anybody else who did, I don’t think you’d hesitate to say it.”

“That’s the point, you’re  _ not…+  _ He cuts himself off, closing his eyes. “It’s not-“

“Don’t say it’s not important,” Vanya gently rests her hand on his stubbled cheek, leaning down to where her face hovers just above his own. “Even after everything we’ve been through, I’m  _ never  _ going to not trust you, okay? You’re my best friend, and I have complete faith in you.”

Five opens his eyes, and she can read the many conflicting things he’s feeling in them. “It’s still hard for me,” he admits. “When I think of my time in the Commission. To think of what I was, what I am  _ now  _ because that shit doesn’t leave a person for good. It scares me, honestly, with how easily I had given into the knowledge that I would kill  _ you  _ of all people.” 

She grabs his left hand, holding it in both of her own, ghosting her thumb of his tattoo and seeing the glint of his wedding ring in the moonlight. “But you  _ didn’t,  _ Five. That’s what matters to me.”

He’s narrowing his eyes, clearly about to argue, so she continues, “I know you would never hurt me, Five. Just take tonight for example. All it took was for me to be in the same position as one of your victims…” He flinches at the word, and she hurries on, “And you made yourself stop.”

“Because I couldn’t fathom the thought of  _ touching  _ you when you were vulnerable in that way-“

“Exactly my point.” He frowns because she’s right, and she adds, a little shy because she’s about to be asking for a  _ lot  _ from him, “What if there was a way to prove to you how much I trust you?”

He raises his brows dubiously. 

Vanya’s cheeks start to flame, realizing she’s going to have to be explicit about her wording. 

As she explains the request, Five’s eyes go from confused to stunned. “You mean like… roleplaying…  _ that?” _

“I trust you.”

“It’s dangerous,” he protests. “What if my mind slipped and you got seriously injured?”

“You can turn back time, right?”

“Not funny.”

She’s not particularly joking.

“Vanya, putting yourself in danger to prove your trust to me is moronic.”

“How do you know I don’t just  _ want  _ you to do that?”

They’re both breathing heavily. It’s not that their sex life is completely vanilla; she’d expressed a  _ long  _ time ago that she didn’t always want vanilla sex after struggling to get off at all for years on meds. He’d taken it in stride, but the way his eyes had bugged out as she explained all of the things she’d done with other partners had been highly amusing. His eyes aren’t quite doing that now, but she can tell that, despite the fact that he’s got reservations, he wants it too. He  _ wants  _ to prove that she can trust him completely. He  _ wants  _ her to know that he’ll take care of her. 

Finally, he relents. “There needs to be some discussion, at the very least, beforehand.”

She settles down against him. “So safe words?”

“Well, yeah, and signaling too.” He’s playing with her hair, completely incongruous to the conversation they’re having. “Plus, clear discussion on  _ what  _ exactly you are okay with.”

“Well, you already know a lot of it,” Vanya shrugs. “And you know everything I’m  _ not  _ comfortable with.”

“Yes, but… what you’re describing… you’re aware that could be a little intense?”

“Which is why we have precautions in place.”

He bites his lip, thinking. “And you’d follow them?”

She nods, “Of course.”

“Alright.”

Vanya feels a new wave of encouragement at him agreeing to this, and she muses, “You could use knives…”

“I’m not stabbing you.”

“Have you never heard of knifeplay?”

Five rolls his eyes, “Yes, I’ve heard of knifeplay. Though honestly, knives are not usually the weapon I went for, so it wouldn’t exactly be an accurate represent-‘

“You could use a gun too,” Vanya interrupts him. 

He blinks slowly. “You’re saying that you want me, your husband, to hold a gun to you?”

“I mean, you don’t have to actually threaten me with it.”

“Obviously I wouldn’t  _ threaten  _ you with it.” His voice has gone comically higher-pitched, and she stifles down laughter. 

“It doesn’t have to even be loaded, just you know… a prop.”

Five’s frown is disconcerting, considering she generally thinks of herself as the more vanilla of the two of them. She feels her stomach sink at the possibility of something in her mind, blurting it just as she thinks it, “Are you disgusted by me asking-“

“Of course not,” Five says quickly, not letting her finish the sentence. “It’s just perplexing to hear you… God, the amount of trust you’d be putting in me, I just don’t want to fail you there.”

She smiles softly, “Five, I trust you, and I know you won’t hurt me. It’s  _ because  _ I trust you this much that I would even suggest this. Or admit that I’ve wanted to do this before.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I’ve thought about this before.” She can feel her face burning now. Even though she knows Five won’t judge her, she feels a little shame for having had these thoughts in the past. “We don’t have to-“

“We can do this,” he tells her. “In the morning, we’ll go over all the details to make sure neither of us is doing anything that makes us uncomfortable, alright?”

She nods. 

He kisses her cheek, “I love you, and never hesitate to ask about something like that.”

“Love you too.”

He smiles.

“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?” Vanya asks. “We can talk more about it if it would help.”

Five inhales once before speaking freely. They talk until their eyes start to grow heavy, and just as she’s falling asleep, she hears him mumble, “Thank you for trusting me, Vanya. I’ll always take care of you, I promise.”

* * *

Her windows have locks now, and he grins smugly at his own ability to provide that safety for her. She would  _ never  _ have to worry about anyone hurting her; it was why he’d finally agreed to this. It was so out of the realm of possibilities for Vanya to actually get hurt this way that he could agree to her  _ desire  _ for it. 

She doesn’t notice him when he stalks forward into her living area, having landed in their bedroom closet first to grab nylon rope and take a second to stifle the guilt. He had drilled her enough about safe words and gestures before this that he was well-aware she knew exactly what to do if she even felt for a second uncomfortable. 

The first time he had tied her up, he had had to stop halfway through from his  _ own  _ discomfort. Her splayed out underneath him in the same position as someone he’d shot in the back of the head had been enough to make him immediately untie her. It had been what made Vanya even suggest this, shyly admitting that she had thought of it before then, just having gotten the confidence to suggest it when she realized how it might help establish how much she trusted him.

He cocks his head, watching her page through a book, a cup of tea still steaming on her table. Five almost wants to scold her for not noticing him standing there and watching her, but he’ll wait to do that once he’s done with her. Her ankles are crossed, propped up on the coffee table, and he decides to silently saunter forward to her, seeing if she actually doesn’t notice him. Infuriatingly, she doesn’t turn around, even when he’s right behind her. 

Only as his hand wraps warningly against her neck does she notice, pulse fluttering underneath his palm. 

To clarify that it’s him before he starts, he tells her, “It was a little harder than I’d expect, to get in. It’s a damn shame how often people forget to put locks on their windows.”

The exact second she realizes it’s him, he feels her relax against his hand. He circles the armchair, hand still on her neck but not tightening until they’re facing each other. His thumbs dig into the sides of her neck, and he watches her blink slowly up at him. Her hands are free at her sides, and if she raises her left arm, it’s to signify he has to pull away. She’ll be laying down on her stomach in a second, tied up with rope, and he won’t cover her mouth or put his hands on her neck then so she’ll easily be able to say the safe word instead. 

“Are you going to beg for your life, Vanya Hargreeves?” Five asks her, voice somewhere between velvety and vicious. He moves his hand from her neck to let her speak. 

Her knees press together, “How would I even beg, s-sir?”

Five raises his brows at the use of “sir” but doesn’t argue. He tries to imagine one of his marks calling him “sir” like that, but the thought is too absurd. Of course, if his victim had looked like her and done it, he might’ve let them go, so he wouldn't exactly say she was in the wrong for using it. “I don’t know, Mrs. Hargreeves,” Five says, unsheathing a knife that he was pretty certain he had pilfered from Diego’s stash at one point. His wife raises her brows at the name he’d used, and he realizes he’s used his left hand to hold the knife, switching to his right with a frown. It felt odd to use the hand that had his wedding ring. Remembering he was supposed to be playing a part, he continues, “Usually, my marks don’t ask me  _ how  _ to beg, they just start begging.” 

“You don’t have to hurt me,” Vanya tells him, and he kneels down enough that they’re face to face. 

“What are you going to do to stop me?” Five breathes, pressing the knife under her chin, not letting the blade touch her skin at all, just letting her feel the cool of the metal. 

“Is there anything I could do if you’re already planning on killing me, sir?” 

He set his knife to the side. If she was actually a mark of his, no, there’d have been no way he would have stopped. To be fair, if he had been given Vanya as a mark during his time in the Commission, he would have simply killed every single person in the Commission and snatched a briefcase and gone home to protect her himself. 

“There are a few things, I imagine,” he says softly. 

“Tell me what I have to do.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. He moves a little closer to her, kneeling down in front of her. She looks down at him, and he forces himself not to laugh at the way she ever-so-slightly spread her legs. “I think you already know,” he tells her, jerking his chin to the small space she’s created between her thighs, just to see her cheeks tinge pink. 

“Has that ever worked before?”

“No.” 

“Will it work now?” 

He doesn’t answer, just reached up to press the heel of his hand between her legs, watching her mouth part. She’s wearing a pair of drawstring pants, ones he’s pretty certain she’d borrowed from him, rolled up to just underneath her knee and tied tight around her waist. A flash of possessiveness waves through his thoughts, seeing her wear his clothes. 

“What do I have to do?” 

Her voice shakes a little, he trails his hand down until he’s resting his palm against her knee, tipping his head back to stare up at her. Breaking character, just to make sure that she’s not afraid, he asks, “You okay, Seven?”

She nods, and he raises his brows, waiting for her to say the actual words. She does, and he smiles softly at her, squeezing her knee before reaching back for the knife. 

“Are you afraid, Mrs. Hargreeves?” Five asks, chilling his voice and bringing back the velvet quality of before. 

She doesn’t answer at first, lips quivering, and he worries again that it’s too much for her. When she sees the distraught expression that must’ve flashed across his features, she leans down, setting her hands against his stiff shoulders, “I trust you, Five. Completely.”

When he keeps his lips sealed, she adds, “We can stop if you need to.”

He shakes his head, determined to not concern her. Standing up to his full height, towering above her, he presses the knife back under her chin. “Beg for your life.”

Her eyes cross as she looks down at the knife, not anywhere near to cutting her skin, but he could still see her pulse working against her neck. He pulls back again, sheathing the knife. She starts begging, making his stomach twist, and he commands, “Stop.”

She closes her mouth, obedient, and he trails his index finger over her pulse, ghosting his hand over her pinkened skin. It’s desire, he knows, not fear. She’d promised that if she got afraid at all, she was to tell him, through non-verbal signals or words. 

His hands curl around her neck, squeezing the sides of it just until they are face to face. She huffs out a breath, and he ghosts his mouth over her own, not moving his lips even as she’s opened her mouth into a gasp. He cages her between his legs, lifting her up by the elbows just enough that she’s angled her torso against his growing erection. When she opens her mouth again, he sticks his tongue inside, tasting the mint tea she’d been sipping on before he’d come home. 

“How do you want me?” she asks, and he barks out a laugh, feeling the elation rise in the pit of his stomach, the euphoria that he had always been too ashamed to tell Vanya completely about. Of the list of things he regretted, nearly hurting her was at the top, but the stark remorse he felt when he thought of all the times he’d felt that rush of adrenaline, felt glee for just a few fleeting seconds when he had someone’s life in his hands, left him unable to sleep a multitude of nights in the time that came  _ after.  _ Vanya, who’d struggled with nightmares as long as he had known her, woke up every one of those nights, would reach over to him blearily, looking just a little guilty at the concept of waking him up before she focused enough to figure out that he was already awake. She’d offer him a tight, exhausted smile, cuddling into his shoulder until he’d ask if she wanted to go get some coffee and they’d both avoid talking about it. Her, because she didn’t want to bother him when he was clearly upset. Him, because he didn’t want to burden her with something like that. 

It’d gotten easier to talk since then, and, with each new story he told her that never changed how she felt, he felt more and more comfortable to confide in her. 

He’d never expected he’d be  _ this  _ comfortable, though. 

He lifts her up until she’s at her full height, still leaning against him. “Are you going to do what I say?” he growls into her ear, digging his nails into her forearm. 

She nods weakly, lips wobbling around her  _ ‘yes, sir.’ _

He smiles, pressing her closer to him. Her nipples are pert against her t-shirt, and his cock twitches at the realization she’s not wearing a bra. It was a common occurrence, she rarely ever wore them when she only expected him to be there, but he is feeling how affected she is by this, knowing that when he reaches into the drawstring pants she’d borrowed from him, she’ll coat his fingers with her arousal.

Unable to resist himself, he presses his mouth to her ear, nipping at the lobe, and asking, “Does it get you off, Mrs. Hargreeves? Knowing that you’ll have to fuck me to stay alive?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, trembling. He pulls the string of her pants, teasing her. 

“Is that why your little tits are responding to me?” Five continues, abandoning the string and instead trailing his hand underneath her shirt, pressing his palm against her torso. Another wild thought, one that came from surviving in an apocalypse and not surviving as an assassin, came to him, of fucking her until she’s carrying his child. That one he absolutely didn’t intend to share because  _ ‘I want to fuck you to make sure the earth is populated’  _ probably isn’t that sexy when it comes to dirty talk.

“Y-yes.”

“It’s a pretty dangerous thing to want, Mrs. Hargreeves. Exchanging your cunt for your life is a stupid strategy, sweetheart,” he tells her, cupping her ass before moving his hands against the backs of her thighs, lifting her up, up, up until she’s wrapping her legs around his waist. “Did I tell you to do that?” Five reprimands, mainly to see her face flush again. 

“No, sir,” she says. 

He can see she needs comfort, and he orders, “Press your head to my shoulder, dear.”

She does, and he kisses the top of her head, asking in the normal way he spoke to her quickly, “Still good?”

“Y-yes, D-“

He snorts, “Christ, keep your horny terms of endearment consistent, V.”

She giggles, and he smiles at the sound, carrying her away from the couch and laying her down on the floor. She frowns up at him when he’s splaid her out how he wants her.

“What?” Five questions, walking over to his props but keeping his head angled so he can hear whatever she has to say. 

“Can you get a blanket?”

“A  _ blanket?” _

“Yeah, rug burn is a bitch.”

He bursts into laughter, completely breaking character. “Quick tip, if you’re ever fucking to save your life, they probably won’t care about your  _ rug burn.” _

She pouts, and he amends, “I’ll get you a blanket, stay where you are.”

As she’s reaching down to touch herself, he adds, with a scowl, “Stay  _ still  _ where you are.”

Her nose scrunches up. “Cute,” he blurts, blinking to the closet they kept blankets and pillows, landing beside her immediately after he’s grabbed them. He spreads them out, making a somewhat comfortable palate and grumbling to her fondly about her request. 

He teleports to the nylon rope, pursing his lips when he’s hovering above her again. Calculating which positions would be the least uncomfortable for her, he finally commands, “On your stomach.”

She complies, and he sits beside her, lifting her legs up and her arms behind her back experimentally, positioning them together and asking, “That okay?”

“Yes.”

He hums approvingly, running his fingers along the fabric of the drawstring pants. “Did you know I’d planned this for tonight?” Five asks curiously, pinching her thigh and making her squirm. “Knew I’d lose my mind seeing you wear my clothes?”

She shakes her head, and he smirks, “You should wear my clothes more often.”

He wastes no time in slipping them off of her legs, flicking them off somewhere in their living room. 

She wasn’t wearing underwear either, and he gapes at the cum dribbling down her thighs. “You really get off on this?” Five asks, leaning down and licking a stripe down her leg and making her yelp. 

“Yes.”

He grins, “Are you one of those women that masturbate to serial killers, Vanya?”

She whines, “N-no, and there are guys who do it too.”

Five smacks her ass before reaching for the rope and positioning her how he had before, tying her limbs together quickly and efficiently. “Tell the truth, Mrs. Hargreeves,” Five commands, leaving her behind to grab a knife and an unloaded gun. He’d nearly called it off completely when she’d said she wanted him to use a gun. Even without ammo, the concept of hovering above her with a gun had almost been too much. 

“I w-want to be fucked by  _ you.” _

“Oh, I gathered that, sweetheart,” he purrs, teleporting to her side. He sits down in front of her, putting her head into his lap. She is already eagerly opening her mouth, and he has a thought, telling her to close her mouth. With a vaguely disappointed expression she does. 

First, she asks, “Would it have ever worked if a mark had done this?”

“Fuck no.”

“What if it had been me?”

He shrugs, “That’s different.”

“So if I had just spread my legs at Icarus I could have avoided a lot of grief, huh?”

Five’s stomach sinks, but he tries to sound unaffected by her comment as he rolls his eyes, “I imagine it’d be a little more difficult, certainly.”

“Five?”

“Yes?”

“What are you about to do?”

He explains quickly, and she blushes, moving her head back into his lap and accidentally brushing her cheek to his throbbing cock. “Are you still going to hurt me, sir?” Vanya asks, and he thrusts subconsciously into her face. 

“Not if you follow my orders, Mrs. Hargreeves,” he says, unbuttoning his trousers and shifting his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. 

“And what are they?”

He starts stroking himself, feeling just the slightest bit guilty he’s neglecting her pleasure just now. “You’re going to beg for your life again, and you’re going to be more convincing. And the second I tell you to stop, you will seal your lips after you ask for your next order. Are we clear?”

She whimpers, “Yes, sir.”

The hand not jerking himself off reaches down to tangle into her hair, listening to her stutter out pleas and trying not to think of the way he feels that euphoria he gets before a kill. His fist works himself quickly, telling her to stop when the thought keeps going back into his mind. 

“What do I do n-now, sir?”

“You’re going to tell me how much you want to be fucked by me. You’re going to tell me exactly why your cunt is dripping against that blanket, and you’re going to beg me to fuck you with my fingers. And then, just as your cunt is tightening around them, you’re going to ask me to not let you come, that you’d much rather suck my fingers clean.”

“Yes, sir.” He can hear the vague annoyance she feels towards him suppressing an orgasm, and he laughs. 

“Sound more grateful about it, Mrs. Hargreeves.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Satisfied, he jerks off while she speaks. “When your hand was around my neck and I heard your voice, I felt my heart starting to pound. I should have been afraid, b-but I just was seeing y-you and you’re so-“

As much as he wants to satisfy his praise kink, he wants to hear her explain why she wanted this particular thing, so he swipes his hand along his precum and snaps, “I don’t want to hear about how you think I look fuckable, Mrs. Hargreeves. I want to hear how it was the  _ danger  _ that did it for you.”

“I l-like,” she gasps. “That you have all the power. That you had the chance to hurt m-me, and you didn’t. That you’re strong and-“

“Focus.”

“I like that I’m the exception,” she murmurs, and he knows that this isn’t the roleplay, that she’s really saying it. He pulls his hand off of his dick, saying she’s doing a good job, and she preens. 

“P-please put your fingers inside of me.”

“You want my fingers inside of you? You trust me to touch you even though I’m supposed to hurt you?’

_ “You trust me even though at one point I nearly killed you?”  _ He doesn’t ask.  _ “You love me even though this is what I have become? You still think of me as  _ your  _ Five when I failed you so many times?” _

“Yes!  _ Please  _ touch me, Five, I’ll be good, please, please, pl- _ ah!”  _

As she reaches the third repetition of please, he’s shoving two fingers inside of her seeping, drenched cunt, scissoring them out and stretching her walls. “You’re doing so well,” he tells her, moving forward a little to grind indelicately against her torso. His mind flits for just a second to doing that in the apocalypse with a hunk of plastic, and he feels his stomach knot in shame instead of pleasure. She says she wants him, sure, but would she have wanted him if she knew all of the shameful things he’d done?

“Do you love me?” Five questions, needing the reassurance despite not being the vulnerable one here. 

“Yes, I love you, F-oh, fuck, please,” she stops speaking, remembering her order and groaning. “May I suck your fingers, sir?”

He brushes his thumb against her clit a few more times to reward her, but he still pulls back before he lets her come. As she’s closing her mouth around his digits and whimpering sadly, he assures, “You’ll get to come, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you come against my fingers first. Then, I’ll stick my tongue inside of you and taste you too. I’ll lick up all the cum you give me, and I’ll tell you how wonderful your pussy tastes. And then I’ll untie your legs but keep your arms bound while I shove my cock inside of you and fill you with my cum and you’ll taste like  _ me  _ as well.”

She gags as he inadvertently presses his finger too far into her mouth, and he frowns, pulling it out and apologizing by shoving his finger back inside of her. He angles his thumb to her clit, deciding he doesn’t want to edge her any longer and making his movements as rough and quick as the time back when they’d still opted to live in the mansion and Diego had been yelling at them that they were going to be late for some fundraiser Ben had been hosting. They’d moved out shortly after, realizing that living with the others put a damper on their sex life. 

She’s clenching around him before her cunt is fluttering around him, and he decides that he wants to see how much overstimulation it would take for her to cause a blackout in the neighborhood with his fingers alone. Vanya starts groaning as she realizes what he’s doing, and he grins wickedly,  _ “Technically,  _ I just said that I’d let you come with my tongue after I fuck you with my fingers, Mrs. Hargreeves. I’m well within my rights. See, I follow my orders without complaint.”

“Asshole,” she grunts out. 

“What do you expect from someone who was willing to kill you, sweetheart?” He pulls his fingers out, briefly, to spank her again as he asks before going back to work.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

“Oh, no,” Five sighs. “I imagine I’ve found a purpose much more exciting than choking you with anything other than my cock.”

“Asshole.”

“You say that, yet you are soaking my fingers. You like that I won’t hurt you, angel. You like that you’re my  _ exception,  _ and I would never do anything to upset my  _ exception.” _

“F-fi-“

“Call me ‘sir,’” he orders, emphasizing his words by stretching her out in a way that would be teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain. 

“S-s-oh, oh, oh.”

“No, that doesn’t sound right,” he snarks, flicking her clit roughly. 

“Oh,  _ God.”  _

“That’s  _ certainly _ not right, though you’re welcome to worship me if you’d like.” He pulls out of her, deciding that she’s going to have to learn how to follow simple directions before she gets rewards.

“Fuck me with your fingers,  _ sir.” _

“See, was that so hard, Mrs. Hargreeves?” He shoves his fingers back inside, only having to move his fingers a little before she’s coming again. 

Thirty minutes later, he realizes it takes exactly four and a half orgasms before she causes the lights to go out in their neighborhood, and makes a mental note to make sure to pay for any other damages he’s caused. 

She’s sobbing now, and he knows that if she’d been exactly the same when he returned to her years ago, she’d be embarassed by how she’d completely drenched his hand and the blanket underneath her. As promised, he leans down, tonguing up the exorbitant amount of slickness eagerly, moving his wet face forward to mouth at the bundle of nerves that’d cause their geriatric neighbors to complain about the damn weatherman and their inability to predict the storms that are always sweeping through these days. 

Vanya’s trembling underneath him after he’s coaxed out the first orgasm with his tongue, and he hears her yelp out as he keeps licking her,  _ “Violin.”  _

Instantly, he pulls back, wiping his mouth, stubble scraping against the back of his hand. “Can I untie you?” he asks, assuming that her use of the safeword was from overstimulation and not wanting to touch her at all until she’d given her okay.

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, making sure his voice is as soft as possible as he begins to work at the knots. “Too much?”

She nods.

“That’s okay,” he promises, successfully getting off the last knot. “Can I touch you as long as I’m not-“

“Yes,” she says, rolling her shoulders quickly before squirming until she’s on her back, reaching out for him. He leans down easily, laying down beside her and pulling her to his chest. 

He sets his forehead to hers, rubbing her shoulders, which he realizes are still clothed in her t-shirt. “You’re okay?” he asks, studying her features for any fear. 

_ “Yes,”  _ she breathes in a moan, and he chuckles, waiting for her to continue patiently. “It was all fine, but I am… oversensitive. As you know.”

“So do the neighbors.”

She realizes then what had happened, and she groans. “You wanted that to happen, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” Five laughs. 

“You’re going to cause the end of the world one day, and you will have to live with the knowledge that it ended because you’re horny.”

“As far as apocalypses go, that doesn’t sound awful. I think if I have to die, I would at least enjoy for my dick to be wet as it happens.” 

_ “If  _ you die?”

_ “That’s  _ the most concerning part of that sentence?”

“Five, I asked you to pretend that you were going to assassinate me. At this point you’ve gotta just accept that I’m a freak too.”

He rolls his eyes, kissing her forehead as he cuddles her closer. “Yeah, you wanted me to threaten you with a gun?”

“Did I tell you what I wanted you to do with it?”

Five wrinkles his nose, “I imagine it’s unsanitary and not recommended for standard gun safety.”

“Thank you,” Vanya says, changing the subject and reaching up to kiss him. “You know I trust you with my life, right?”

Five grimaces. “Even when I’ve failed you in the past?”

“You never would have hurt me,” Vanya insists, crawling on top of him. She had this tendency to always want to be closer, no matter how close they were. It was a tendency that he didn’t mind at all. He felt the urge to pull her closer too, but guilt usually made him want to keep distance so as not to burden her. 

She seems to realize as she’s sitting down on him that he still hasn’t come, and she sheepishly apologizes. 

“It’s fine,” he reassures hastily. “Don’t worry about it.”

She frowns, reaching down anyways and causing him to yelp instead. It had been easy to ignore it when he was worried about her, but he’d delayed the orgasm long enough that he’s over sensitive too. 

“You talk about how reactive I am,” Vanya snarks, not graceful or gentle at all with how she’s jerking him off. He’s not sure if he’s being punished for overstimulating her or if she’s trying to make it quick out of guilt, but he can’t really think much about it at all, slamming his head against the blanket underneath him, mouth opened up and groaning out nonsensically. 

When he’s certain he’s about to come, she pulls back enough that she can lean her head near his waist, that he realizes she’s trying to imitate what he’d asked for before, and he gasps out, cum shooting against her, making him feel a little guilty to have asked for this as he sees its gotten into her hair. 

She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’s grinning smugly like she’s proud of the effect she has on him. 

“I need to bathe,” she announces, trying to stand up and failing. He catches her easily as she slips, asking her to wrap her legs around him again and standing up before blinking them to just outside their shower. She shrugs her shirt off, sitting on the counter while he fills the tub with water. 

When he’s gotten the tub half-full, he lifts her up again and places her in the water, rifling through the cabinets to grab a washcloth to help clean her up. 

She leans back, laying her head to the wall, and he comments, grabbing shampoo, “Sorry about your hair.”

She doesn’t comment, closing her eyes sleepily, and he walks over to her, kneeling down on the tiled floor and reaching for her. “Are you tired?”

She yawns, making him smile softly to himself as he scrubs her arms. Her voice is bleary when she asks, “Can you get in with me?”

He pulls off his clothes quickly, climbing in behind her to where she’s laying against his chest. Vanya makes a small, contented noise, and he’s pretty certain she’s just a few seconds from falling asleep. “Let’s get you cleaned up before you sleep, okay?” he murmurs to her, lathering the soap and cleaning off the rest of her body, nudging her every few moments to make sure she stays awake. He doesn’t mind carrying her to bed, but putting clothes on her while she’s knocked out would make her grouchy (and she’d be even more grouchy if she woke up in the night because she was so cold.)

After her body has been cleaned, he washes her hair out. She makes a small noise as he lifts her up, taking the stopper out of the tub and showering himself quickly while he keeps her held up with one arm. 

“Almost done,” Five tells her, stepping them out of the shower and grabbing towels. Once she’s dry enough that she won’t be cold, he blinks her to their bedroom, setting her on the bed before finding clothes for them to sleep in. He dresses himself and then her, finally letting her actually fall asleep. 

It’s because she’s asleep that he admits everything he hasn’t already told her, knowing that the day she asks for the information, he’ll be able to say it. Despite everything they have been through, she trusts him, and he could not betray that ever. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to [ellaphunt19.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellaphunt19/pseuds/ellaphunt19) A few fics from kinktober will have second parts, including this one. If any of you were fans of proprietorial, mellifluous, elixir, stimulate, or ethereal, they will all have second parts as well!

“Have you ever been tied up?” Vanya asks him, glancing up from the book she was reading and setting it down on the coffee table.

Five picks the book up, trying to read the back cover, voice teasing as he asks, “What kind of deplorable, filthy stories are you reading for you to ask me this?”

“It’s a novel about a serial killer”

He groans, despite his lips twitching into a smile, fond of his wife and all of the things that fascinated her. (It’s not like he’s afraid at all that anybody would ever hurt her, considering she has _him_ to protect her.) _“Please_ tell me that you’re just curious about my life in the Commission, not that you’re in _the mood_ after reading about a fictional serial killer.”

_“Well—”_

“Yes, I’ve been tied up. Not in the context you’re thinking of, though.”

She crawls into his lap, and he easily wraps an arm around her. “What are your thoughts on me tying you up?”

“I have no problem with it, but you _better_ call me pretty the entire time.”

Vanya snorts. “You’re already _much_ too aware of how pretty you are.”

“Keep going. Tell me how much you like my hair.”

“Your hair is lovely, Five.” She tugs a strand before pressing her palm to his cheek. “Which is probably a good thing, considering you spend 45 minutes every morning on it.”

Five tilts his head, kissing her palm. “That you _know_ of.”

“Are you implying you’d use time travel to make your hair look better?”

“I would say it’s a great use of chronokinesis actually.”

She rolls her hips against his thigh, somewhat impatiently. 

“Did you need something, sweetheart?” He’s found that she very much enjoys it when he lets his bastard qualities slip through (never to a degree that he’d attain with everybody else in the world without trying, though). 

Vanya pouts, and he kisses her nose, waiting for her to use her words. 

“Can you touch me?” She’s polite enough in her request that he obliges to what she’s asking without any teasing. 

As his hands slip between her thighs, he watches the blissful expression cloud over her gaze, grinding against him. Just as he’s starting to move aside her panties, their phone starts ringing. He groans, willing to not answer it, but Vanya stands up, telling him that she’s expecting a call from Allison. When she walks to the kitchen, grabbing the telephone and smiling over to him. 

Teleporting to the kitchen, he starts rifling through the cabinets, trying to figure out what to make for dinner while he listens to Vanya chatter about the plot of a book she’s writing. His hand catches on a box of pasta, pursing his lips and grabbing it, checking the fridge to see if they had anything to make a salad with. Vanya mouths, ‘Fake a minor emergency,’ causing him to force down laughter. 

“Vanya,” he calls loudly enough that his sister will absolutely hear, keeping his voice in a monotone. Allison deserves to know for interrupting them, anyways. “I have appeared to have fallen and broken my leg.”

Vanya scowls at him, holding the phone out in his direction, “Allison wants to talk to you.”

He sighs belligerently, blinking to his wife and grabbing the phone from her. “What do you want?” he asks Allison, pulling Vanya into his lap. 

“Thought you broke your leg,” she quips. 

“Yes, I’m in tremendous pain. Can’t you tell?”

“Vanya and I call each other once a week, you know this.”

“Yeah, but you were probably annoying her with the baby stuff.” 

“I was not!”Allison snaps as Vanya nods. He grins. As much as they both love Allison and Luther, every time they have to hear about their babies longer than ten minutes, it is too much. Neither of them dislike children (and neither of them are even against having any), but Luther once spent an entire hour discussing what each of his daughter’s cries meant. 

“If you really wanted us to care about the laborious task of picking preschools, you’d just rumor us to be interested.”

“I will rumor every preschool in the tri-state area to not accept you or Vanya’s children,” she threatens. 

“Jokes on you, I would never force my child to go to preschool. It would be demeaning to their intelligence.”

“If you had gone to preschool, maybe you’d have learned how to stop being such a _dick.”_

“Well, again, jokes on you, I was sold to a cult leader who liked abusing children.”

He can’t see her, but he’s aware she’s rolling her eyes. “I’m going to hang up the phone, but know that you didn’t influence it in the slightest.”

Before Allison can hang up, Vanya leans in and yells, “Love you!”

“Thank you,” his wife sighs when he sets down the phone, kissing his neck. “I feel a little bad.”

“Don’t. Luther told me that she once pretended to have appendicitis to get out of talking to you when we first got together.”

She snorts. “To be fair to her, I used to give a lot of unnecessary details.”

He kisses her nose. “She’s not actually upset, don’t worry. I would bet she’s a little relieved, honestly. She’s been pretty overwhelmed with all of the kids. Which, by the way, I actually told her we’d babysit next week for them yesterday.”

“We’ll have to babyproof,” she says anxiously. Five gently assures her they will, and she relaxes, resting her forehead on his shoulder. He kisses the top of her head before carrying her to the kitchen and setting her on the counter, finding the rest of his ingredients he needed for dinner.

* * *

“Do you want my help?” Five asks, tipping his chin back, looking very much amused at her struggles with tying him. 

“I’m so worried I’m going to hurt you somehow,” she mumbles sheepishly. 

“You’re fine. The worst thing you'd do is bruise by what you’re doing. We can always stop if you’re uncomfortable too, you know.”

Vanya raises her brows, “Do _you_ want to stop?”

He shakes his head, pressing his chin to the carpet. She tugs a little on the rope, trying to see if he’s affected by it, but he doesn’t make any upset noises. “You’re not going to hurt me,” he tells her gently. “I’d tell you if I wanted to stop at all, and I have no doubt at all.”

He’s lying on his stomach, and she wonders if they should have gone to her bed instead. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, dear. I’m fine.” 

She climbs on top of him, knees on either side of his torso. After smacking his ass once, she realizes there really isn’t anything else going for them in this position, not without going through their drawer, which she didn’t want to bother with. “Can I untie you?”

“Already?”

“I don’t like the position you’re in. It’s doing nothing for me.”

As she starts untying him, he grunts out, “I noticed you’ve said nothing about how pretty I am.”

“I don’t think I ever agreed to that.”

“My heart weeps.”

“Have you considered not being a bitchboy?”

“While this position may not have been doing anything for you, that term is doing wonders for me.” She giggles, finally unknotting off the last ties from his ankles. As he flips himself over, somehow making the action look arrogant to an absurd degree, Vanya quickly commands him to lay down on his back, on the bed. 

“There is absolutely _no_ reason why you had to teleport to the bed that is less than six feet away from you,” she complains. 

“You don’t find the action _enticing?”_

“Please never say that word again. Also, no. It reminds me of that time when you were nine and got a concussion when you tried to teleport into my bed.”

His eyes dance with amusement. “To think I protected you from your nightmares and you were _ungrateful_ for it. I even lied to Grace and told her I was trying to steal from you.”

“What would you have even stolen from me?”

“Beats me, but I had to listen to a 50s-mother-inspired-robot lecture me about kleptomania and how it made Sir Hargreeves look bad for it. Suffice to say, what I learned that day was that it really pisses off Reginald if I steal shit, and I should therefore do it more often.” He crosses his ankles, arching a brow. “Are you ever going to tie me up again?”

She climbs onto the bed, struggling with the nylon ropes. When she sees Five’s lips seal, not bothering to hide the amusement in his eyes over her inexperience at all. As soon as she shoots him a hurt look, though, he at least _tries_ to stop shaking with laughter. Vanya purses her lips before she straddles him, and he groans, humbled immediately (which only makes her a _little_ bit smug). “Are you going to be a good boy?”

Unfortunately, his expression quickly switches from stunned to amused again. She rolls her hips, and he raises his brows, acquiescing, “Sure.”

As she sets to re-tying him, it occurs to him _why_ he is being belligerent, and her heart fills with affection for him. He can tell she is nervous about this, and he is trying to get her out of her head, knowing that she’d genuinely meant it when she’d asked him before. When she leans forward to kiss him gently, he makes a small noise, sounding much more affected than when she was _trying,_ and she realizes that, for Five, _she_ might just be enough to make him sound this way. It simultaneously causes tenderness, desire, and a feeling of _power_ thrum through her veins. “Be still,” she commands, and his eyes hold no humor as he jerks his chin, nodding and obeying her order. 

Proud of her effect on him, she tightens the ropes, satisfied with her work. His eyes follow her movements, clearing his throat and pressing himself back against the headboard. She kisses his bare torso gently, fully leaning forward to suck hickeys all over his chest and stomach. Though Five can get jealous easily, the others often mistakenly assume that _she’s_ the less possessive of the two of them. Of course, when Five got jealous, he couldn’t ever cause the end of the world for it, so really, by default, hers would always be worse. 

Her chin presses against his stomach when she stares up at him. “You good, still?”

Five nods, breathing heavily and trying to subtly grind against her. “Stop,” she snaps, and he makes a pained noise, closing his eyes in frustration. “Look at me, Five.”

His eyes meet hers, bright green irises standing stark over the darkened shadows. Though he is older than her, both physically and mentally, it is most noticeable around his eyes, bags from restless sleep and crow’s feet that always crinkled when he smiled at her. He sets his chin, which nearly makes her laugh, recalling how many times she’d done just that when he took control (and, for what they tended to want from the other, he usually was). “Can you t-touch me?” Five stammers just a little with the request.

“If you had wanted that, you shouldn’t have agreed to babysit for Allison and Luther.”

He bursts into laughter, “Oh, _fuck_ you.”

“You’d normally call me a brat for that kind of talk.”

His eyes widen, seeing where she is going with this. “You wouldn’t.”

She grins. “I would.”

“In my defense, I _listen_ to you when you ask to come.” (He is technically right, and she does have something of a track record for denying orgasms for a _while._ Still, while he is tied up, he does need to know that she doesn't want to spend tomorrow babysitting and she doesn’t approve of him agreeing to it without telling her.)

Of course, just as she starts dragging her tongue down the length of him, she quickly loses the desire to drag it out, feeling his cock twitch against her cheek. She glances up at him, a small smile tugging against the corners of her mouth. His eyes hold something gentle, and she can’t quite decide _why_ he is looking at her this way. Then again, once she’d been able to realize what the looks he always gave her meant, she’d realized that he _always_ looked at her like this. 

Her hand slips between her thighs instead, and it seems to make him even more frustrated than when she had been touching him. Realizing that it is because he cannot touch her, she climbs off of him and readjusts herself where she’s sitting more on the side of him, spreading her legs so he can clearly see her movements. A groan falls from his lips, and she smirks, reaching between her legs again. His expression grows pained, and she draws her finger inside of herself, gathering the slickness that is steadily growing as she stares at him. When she presses her finger into her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue, Five’s eyes widen considerably, straining against the ropes. (Technically, he could blink out of those restraints, but he’s either not thinking clearly or he’s trying to _somewhat_ follow her rules.)

“Be still,” she commands, and he sinks against the headboard, staring at her with a forlorn, betrayed expression. He had a sort of obsession with eating her out (something that she had no complaints about), and she is pretty certain that denying him the ability to do so upsets him more than anything else. More gently, she adds, “You’ll get to taste me in a bit.”

When he doesn’t speak, it occurs to her that he’s waiting for her _permission._

“You can talk to me,” she purrs, dragging her index finger over her entrance, making sure he has a good view. 

“You’re killing me.” His eyes do not leave from between her thighs, though, except to glance up at her face every few moments, watching her eyes tighten with each brush of her fingers. When she finally glides her finger against her clit, she feels herself beginning to drip against his thigh. “What do I have to—”

Gathering up as much slickness as she can, she offers him her fingers, feeling so powerful above him. As soon as her finger is within reach of his tongue, he’s dragging it against the wetness, closing his mouth around her finger and sucking when she closes the distance completely. Once his eyes calm, she pulls her hand away, kissing him before he can let out the small whimper that she knows he’ll make. 

“Are your wrists okay?” Vanya asks him nervously, not sure if she’d asked him this already.

Jerkily, he nods, and she realizes that the only pain he is feeling is from—

“You really enjoy this, huh?” She can feel a smirk growing across her features, wondering if Five felt this amazing when he took control. 

“Yes, I enjoy this.” He sounds somewhere between irritated, flustered, frustrated, and aroused. “I _especially_ like how confident you look, standing above me. There was one point when we first got together that you tried to _thank me_ for giving you head.”

She remembers this, actually. He’d actually had to _convince_ her because she’d been so convinced that he was only doing it out of some misplaced guilt or something, and then Five had very explicitly explained _why_ he wanted to go down on her. After she’d thanked him, he’d waited another night for their first time because he’d spent the rest of the night _just_ eating her out. At one point, she’d sleepily asked him if they could stop, and that was when he finally did, cleaning her up and grabbing her water before cuddling up to her until she fell asleep.

“It’s easy to be confident when it’s you,” she tells him, and his eyes light up in a way that reminds her of his actual age. While she doesn’t ever forget that he’s 29 years older than her, a lot of times he just feels like the best friend that she’d lost when she was 13, like both of them exist in a space outside of time completely. Right now, with the way he looks at her, it feels like they’ve been married for forty years, reminiscent of the elderly couples she’d sometimes caught sight of in the years when she’d waited for Five, just the slightest bit jealous that they’d gotten to grow old together. 

“I love you,” he murmurs. She’d once heard somebody say that telling somebody that you loved them over and over lost the significance of the word. On the contrary, with each time he’d said those words, they seemed to _grow_ in their power. With each moment he stayed by her side, not leaving, it strengthened the meaning of them, made her grow to never doubt it. Vanya had always known on some level that he did love her, but she used to always tell herself that it likely wasn’t the way she loved him. 

Capturing her lips with his own, she whispers against his lips, “I love you too.”

He moves to wrap his arms around her before making a frustrated noise, remembering he’s tied up. She kisses his nose, grabbing his cock and guiding it towards her cunt. “You’re aware that you probably can’t _actually_ be tied up, with your powers?”

 _“Actually,_ if I’m pumped up with a bunch of drugs when it happens, it’s pretty impossible to do.”

Her heart feels like it stops. He hadn’t told her this when she’d asked him, and she wonders if the reason why is the way she is reacting right now, mouth agape and panicking. “Was… was it in the Commission?”

Five glances down from her, and the air has changed completely. She unties the ropes hastily, and he explains, “Yeah, it was… well, I mean, there were a few times with Reg—”

“He did that to you?” She feels herself trembling, and she feels guilt pierce through her when Five wraps his arm around her. It is not _her_ who should be being comforted right now. “Why—”

Cutting her off in a clipped tone, he says, “Because he wanted to test the limits of my powers, why else?”

“And the Commission?”

“Wanted to test the limits of my… I don’t know, sanity... I guess.”

“I hadn’t thought that you’d meant it like—” Her eyes well up with tears, and she leans against him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s different with you, dear.” He pulls the hair she’d been subconsciously hiding behind from her forehead as he tips her chin up to him, seeing his eyes hold no humor at all. There is still that softness within them, a promise that his feelings for her would never change. A promise that she knew that he wouldn’t break when he’d proved himself time and again. “I never feel afraid when I’m with you. That’s what makes me okay with this. If you were anybody else, I don’t know how I’d feel about it, but it _is_ you.”

“But I don’t want to upset you, though.” She can see the darkness filling his eyes, not sure if it’s gotten there from her being upset or remembering what he’d been through. “You know I’d _never_ want to upset—”

“It helps,” he blurts, a blush forming at his over his cheeks. Vanya nearly raises her brows at the abrupt change in how he looks, and a shocked bubble of laughter spills out of her. Sheepishly, he adds, “It helps me reassociate it. Like tying you up had done for me, except _this_ doesn’t even make me feel nervous at all. All I feel right now is the urge to beg you to re-tie me and ride—”

“Okay, yeah, I _got_ it.” Surprisingly, she’s somehow not blushing too. If she’s being entirely honest, she’s happy to help him in any way she can, and she’s certainly happy to do _this._ As she begins to re-tie him, the excitement in it all quickly comes back, and she feels even more confident now, knowing that this would help him in some way. “You could have _led_ with that, you know.”

Five tries to shrug but is incapable. “I figured you already knew that you’re always the exception to every rule I have.”

With Five’s arms fully tied, she asks him again, “You’re _certain_ you’re okay with this?”

“I’m certain.” 

She climbs on top of him, fully sinking on top of him this time. “Tell me if it ever gets to be too much,” she gasps, waiting a few seconds to adjust to the feeling of him, despite having worked herself up. “And, in the future, _please_ tell me every detail before we try something.”

“Yes, dear.” His head tilts back. “You feel so good, V.”

Her hips rock against him, catching his wedding ring glinting in the moonlight and quickening her pace. 

“Can you touch—” When she pinches her own nipple, rolling the pebbling skin against her finger, Five grunts out, “God, I love you so much.”

“Because I understood what you were asking? You were staring at my chest, to be fair.”

A grin spreads across his features, and he makes no attempt in hiding the fact that he’s gawking at her chest. 

Sometimes she’d wonder if his fascination with giving her head was the same as _this,_ worshipping the fact that she was so _alive_ above him. If on some level sex reassured him that she was actually there with him, that she was breathing and speaking and safe. There were times that she’d wear his shirt, knowing that there was some primal part of him that got off on his ability to provide for her. It had never bothered her, she didn’t think that he liked it because he thought she was incapable of taking care of herself. For him, she was pretty sure it was the fact that he liked knowing that he _could_ provide for and take care of somebody when he’d struggled to get himself meals and shelter for years, through circumstance alone. Vanya often wondered if Dolores was a result of the urge to take care of something, to not feel like he was incapable of doing so.

She adjusts their position to where he can easily mouth at her nipple, and he doesn’t have to be told, just closing his mouth around it and nipping the skin gently with his incisors. Reaching between her legs, she touches herself as she rides him, almost tempted to untie him and make him do it but deciding against it when she catches sight of the blissed out expression across his features, having pulled away from her chest for a moment to catch his breath. 

“You’re doing so well,” she grunts, both certain it would satisfy his praise kink and certain she only said that because it’s what he’d say to her if their roles were reversed. At the feeling of him twitching inside of her, she starts grunting out more praise, wanting to hear him moan. He’s never tried to not be vocal with her, and she loves him for it, loves to hear the way he’s affected by her.

“Fuck, Vanya, I’m close—”

She works her hand more roughly, not changing the pace of her hips. Once she’s clenching around him, vision going completely black for just a second, he spills inside of her, tensing up so much until he’s relaxing against the headboard, panting. 

Though she knows Five probably would never admit it, she knows he gets off on the sight of her filled up with his cum. Part of her thinks it’s some kink to impregnate her, and the other part thinks that, while it’s a kink, it’s also another one of the primal habits he’d picked up in the apocalypse. That seeing a completely barren wasteland had made him feel the urge to ensure that it would never happen again. She doesn’t mention this to him, knowing that it would probably embarrass him, but she doesn’t mind it at all. There is something reassuring to _her_ about this feeling, like she’s completely full. She and Five weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but she wouldn’t object to them having a baby by any means at all and she _knew_ that Five wouldn’t, based on how often he offered to babysit for Allison and Luther. 

Apparently his thoughts are going to the same place because after she untied him and cuddled up to his chest, he asks, “Are you _actually_ mad at me for offering to babysit?”

Vanya smirks. “No, not really. Though I am very saddened that we’ve discovered a new kink for you the _day_ before we are forced to be abstinent.”

“Oh, you know she and Luther won’t be able to manage a full night without their kids. They’ll be breaking down our door at about two AM, convinced that we’ve somehow managed to forget to read them their favorite bedtime stories.”

This actually had been a legitimate reason Allison had given for breaking into their house at two AM once. Five’s hands had just started going around her throat when he’d asked, _‘Allison?_ What the fuck? Knock next time.’ It had actually helped to reassure her that Five was a good babysitter to his nieces and nephews, though, based on the fact that she was convinced if anybody even _appeared_ threatening to Five when her kids were around they’d be dead before they had the chance to try to hurt them. Luther and Vanya had had to sit through many discussions between Five and Allison on the best home security measures, staring at each other in concern for their partners when they started discussing ways to best decapitate intruders. 

“I think it’s sweet that she cares so much about her kids,” Vanya defends.

“She asked me to build her a _moat_ last year.”

“She asked you? Or you suggested it?”

“Inconsequential. The point is that I’m a great uncle, and, if she thinks that I would forget to read _Goodnight Moon_ to my nieces and nephews, then I’m _personally_ offended.”

“You and Allison might rival each other over who is more overdramatic,” she muses, fluffing his hair. When she sees his wedding ring flash in the moonlight again, she brushes her fingers against the metal, pulling his hand to her and kissing it gently. “Do you feel okay? I was worried for a second there...”

“I know you were, but, seriously, don’t worry about me with that, V. There is no doubt in my mind that you wouldn’t hurt me. You’re my wife, and I trust you completely.” He lets her kiss all along his face, smiling kindly at her, comfortable in a way that he was just unable to accomplish with anybody else. She knows that he wasn’t lying when he said that he trusted her, that he really meant it. If he didn’t, he just wouldn’t have said it. Softly, seeing the look in her eyes, he adds, _“Only_ you.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you too. More than I’ll ever be able to express.” His eyes are starting to droop, and she realizes she somehow managed to tire him out, laughing a little as she does. Voice slurring a little and eyes closed shut, he asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Is the old man tired?”

“The old man has had a long day.” His arms, wrapped around her, squeeze her torso a little. “And the old man deserves to take a nap with his wife.”

“Old man is starting to work for me.” 

“You’re the _worst,”_ he complains, chuckling when she kept kissing along his cheek and jaw until he finally amends his words. _“Fine,_ you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Happy?”

“Tell me that I’m pretty.”

“You’re pretty. The prettiest person I’ve ever seen.” He pats her head. “Now, are you—”

“Tell me how much you like my hair, now.”

“I like your hair. Please let me sleep, now. I’m begging you.” 

She pouts, burying her nose into the crook of his neck. “Alright, fine.”

He kisses the crown of her head, repeating “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ever leave me,” she mumbles quietly, voice muffled against his skin, though she knows he can hear her, based on the way his heart skips a beat. “I need you, Five.”

“I promise you that I won’t.”

And she believes him. She didn’t say that because she thought he would, but she needed the reassurance. Vanya is pretty sure that he’s only seconds away from drifting into sleep when she tells him, knowing that he needs the reassurance just as much as her, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!💕 The second part of proprietorial will also be posted tonight!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading this, and I apologize for it being a day late. I’m going be getting today’s prompt, exhibitionism, tagged and posted right after I have posted this one!


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